


see you licking frosting (from your own hands)

by iridescentprincess



Series: objects of love [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentprincess/pseuds/iridescentprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy attempts to make Clarke breakfast for her birthday, but of course she quickly ruins the surprise. Then she suggests they put a certain sugary glaze on their pancakes.</p><p>bellarke + frosting</p>
            </blockquote>





	see you licking frosting (from your own hands)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in an hour, didn't really edit it, and kind of just decided to post this on a whim. It was my birthday a couple days ago, and I got inspired. hope you guys like this! 
> 
> title from the song, "Cake By The Ocean" by DNCE.

The alarm blares in his ears for five seconds as he gets his bearings before he quickly turns it off. Bellamy sneaks out of their bed, careful not to make any sound. He has to wake up extra early for this because he knows for a fact that his girlfriend is a morning person, so he put an alarm on his phone for six in the morning. _Six in the morning_ , on a _Sunday._ It’s a feat in itself that Bellamy could push himself to get out of bed, _and_ not wake Clarke up. He pats himself on the back as he walks down the stairs.

He whistles softly as he opens the refrigerator, taking out eggs, milk, butter一

“Why are you up so early?”

Bellamy jumps two feet in the air. “Jesus Christ, Clarke,” he sputters, before turning around to see her fully. She looks tired, blonde hair in a sagging ponytail, his T-shirt hanging loosely from her shoulders. He wants to put her in his pocket. “Go back to bed. You need to sleep more,” he murmurs, going up to her to hug her. Kissing her head, he whispers, “Happy birthday, princess.”

Clarke hugs him back. “Thank you,” she says into his chest. “I was already half-awake from your alarm. But I don’t want to sleep in an empty bed. Since I ruined the surprise, let me help you make my birthday breakfast.”

Of course she would try to mess with his plans. “No. What the fuck kind of birthday would it be if you had to cook?”

“Birthdays aren’t that special. I just aged another year.”

“It sounds like you’re turning eighty. You’re twenty-eight.”

“Bell, I’ve aged,” she whines. “I’m getting older and older.”

“You’re not old. I’m thirty-three. Do you think I’m old?”

“Not physically.”

He ignores the meaning of her words. “Exactly. You’re young and sexy. When you’re sixty, I’ll call you old and sexy.”

“Thanks, Bell.”

“Anytime.”

Clarke rubs her hands together. “So, what were you planning on making?”

He sighs. Might as well ruin the surprise altogether. “I was gonna make you pancakes.”

“Can I have a request?”

Bellamy gives her a look. “It’s your birthday, Clarke.”

“Oh, right. Let’s have frosting on the pancakes.”

“Frosting? For breakfast?”

“It’s my birthday, I want the sugar,” she asserts, rummaging through the pantry for ingredients to make frosting.

Clarke begins to make frosting while Bellamy mixes ingredients to make pancake batter. They work in complete silence, maneuvering around each other to get things; Bellamy grabs her hips when he has to move to her other side to grab some sugar, and Clarke slides her hands across his back when she has reach for the piping bags. At one point, she tries her frosting out, and she gets some on her nose. Bellamy can’t resist trying some for himself, so he kisses her nose, licking the frosting off of it, before going for her mouth. Her lips taste like sugar, too.

He gets carried with kissing her for several minutes, lifting her up and placing her on the counter. He knocks the flour in the process, and Clarke’s butt sits in the mess he created. She pulls away with a grimace. “Is my butt covered in _flour_?” she hisses.

He gulps from his stance between her legs. “That would be correct,” he whispers, not knowing what else to say.

She stares at him in anger for a moment before reaching under her butt with her hand, grabbing a fistful of flour, and putting it all in Bellamy’s hair. She giggles as Bellamy gasps, shaking his curls and releasing flour in the air around them.

In the end, Bellamy flips a total of ten pancakes on his pan, hair still covered in white flour, and Clarke watches from her seat on the counter. She pours the batter from a bowl into the pan that he holds up and then Bellamy cooks it at the stove next to her. When Clarke offers to cook a pancake, he refuses to give her the pan, telling her that it’s her birthday. She rolls her eyes.

“There, I’m done!” he cheers, throwing the pan in the sink and washing his hands. He moves the plate of pancakes to the dining room table, careful not to drop it.

“I’ve got the frosting,” Clarke calls, holding two piping bags full of white frosting. She gives one to Bellamy and takes a pancake, already starting to decorate hers.

When they’re done, they show each other what they decorated onto their pancakes. Bellamy’s pancake simply has a huge swirl unraveling from the center going outward, while Clarke’s, being an artist, has about a dozen different tiny flowers and leaves on it. They dig in afterwards.

After Clarke’s third pancake, she licks her fingers. She sucks on her index finger for what feels like an eternity, and Bellamy swears she’s doing it on purpose. His fists clench around his fork and knife. “What are you doing, Clarke?”

Clarke looks at him, confused, the picture of innocence. “What do you mean? My fingers were just a little sticky from all the frosting,” she carefully says, but he can see the edges of her mouth fighting to form a smile, and there’s no way she’s getting away with this.

Bellamy leans over the table to kiss the corner of her mouth, licking at her skin. His lips have a bit of frosting on them when he pulls away, and he licks it away. Clarke blinks, her eyes transfixed on his lips.

“Do you want your birthday sex now or later?” he asks bluntly, his face still inches from hers. He gets the reaction he was hoping for, her jaw dropping and her pupils dilating. She probably wasn’t expecting him to call her out on it, let alone be so straightforward about it.

“Now would be nice,” she says, struggling to regain composure. She clears her throat. “I have to clean off the flour my ass is still covered in, and the frosting. Care to join me in the shower?”

“Sure. Wherever you want. I know we’re not gonna stop at the shower,” he states, smirking as he gets up to put the dishes in the sink. He had more than just breakfast plans for her.

Walking back to the table, he scoops Clarke out of her seat. She squeals, and demands he put her down, but she’s grinning the whole time. “We’ll have sex in the shower, in bed, against the wall, everywhere,” he murmurs into her ear, and his voice makes her shiver.

“Wait, wait!” Clarke shouts. Bellamy stops. “What?” he asks.

“Go back for a sec,” she orders him, and he carries her backwards until they reach the table. She grabs a piping bag and places it in her lap. “Okay, let’s go now.”

He complies, but he raises any eyebrow at her. “Why do you need frosting if we’re gonna take a shower?”

“I thought we could play with the frosting a bit more before washing,” she voices, causing Bellamy to rush up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He can just imagine it now, putting frosting all over her body and licking it up, and he can feel his dick hardening in his pants with his eagerness.

Bellamy makes good on his promise of fucking her everywhere, and by the time they’re done, Clarke is sore in the best way possible. She goes downstairs much later to see what mess they left in the kitchen. Noticing her blushing, he sees her staring at the frosting.

Bellamy laughs. Clarke scowls at him.

Throwing away what’s left of the frosting in the bowl, she goes over to stand in front of him and he automatically wraps his arms around her. “I don’t think I can look at frosting the same way again,” she complains.

He smiles down at her. “Happy birthday, princess.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated! it lets me know that you guys enjoyed this. 
> 
> if any of you decide to comment, my request to you is to give me an object that you think I should write for my next object fic. only if you want to. I kind of want to make a series out of this.


End file.
